The Jonah Returns
by WolfsCub
Summary: Midshipman Hollom jumps into the water, not to his death, but into the future, meeting Hermione Granger on her vacation. One shot, unless you like it.
1. Chapter 1

**The Jonah Returns**

Midshipman Hollom jumps into the water, not to his death, but into the future. One shot, unless you like it.

**AN**: The song refered to in the end of this chapter is called _Hymn to the sea _and it is sung by _Sissel. _It's part of Titanic's soundtrack!

**Chapter 1**

He was so tired of all the whispering, of the crew talking on his back. He wanted to hide, to flee this prison his life had become. He longed for the sea, and to be a better man than he was, but everything seemed to go wrong anywhere he went.

They hated him. The lads sided with Nargle, their own, of course. And it was so difficult every moment he was forced to interact with others, except perhaps… Will Blakeney. The young Lord he had helped as he could, especially in the beginning, when so far away from home and land, homesickness would sometimes sadden him, had not turned his back on him.

_Yet_, said a malicious caustic little voice from the darkness. _Give it time._

It didn't matter that he did all that he could. He lost Warley, he failed to Beat to Quarters that cursed foggy morning, and all could see that he could barely stand the sight of Nargle being flogged, his guilt consuming him. He felt so useless.

And so afraid. Gods, but he felt like a pariah, and like a scared little rabbit after passing by all of them below, the crew saluting him, their eyes serious, others mocking, others with a menacing glint, like a crowd of hungry dark tooth fairies ready to jump at you and bite the meat off your bones. Like the coward he was, he made the mistake of looking them in their eyes, showing his fear in such an obvious fashion and fled, feeling as if his stomach had dropped to his feet, and hiding, in panic, among the little midshipmen, all so much younger than him. _And braver too._

Was there no hope? He felt like all had come to a stop. He wanted it to end. Why couldn't there be rain and wind? If only there was rain and wind and good tide… he would not feel so guilty! He suppressed a sob. What had he done to deserve to be shunned like a worthless leper and WHY did he feel so wretched and guilty?

_It's all your fault_. Was there nothing he could do?

_You know what needs to be done.__End this, all of it._

And then he knew.

He put on his uniform with measured movements and looked, for the last time, at his beloved Spanish guitar, given to him by an old lady, an acquaintance of his dearly yet deceased mother, a spinster whose last name was Moon. An odd name, that was for certain. Perhaps good, young Lord Blakeney would keep it, even though he could not play it, lacking his right arm. But surely he would have descendants, and maybe, just maybe, he could pass it on to his younglings, and something of Bradley Hollom would remain, and perhaps he would be remembered, if only as a distant memory.

How would he be remembered?

_Wake up._ Was that the wind whispering?, he thought, hoping. But no, his shoulders slumped, it was only a light, momentary breeze swiping the deck of the ship.

Will Blakeney was on watch. He didn't want him to be the last to see him, lest the young boy be traumatized. _As he will be, if he won't hate you outright for taking the coward way out._ But I'm also doing this for them… so maybe their luck will turn, he sighed, reaching for little boy, startling the young midshipman, who nearly jumped.

"You gave me quite the fright, Mr. Hollom!"

"I'm sorry,", he replied, smiling sadly. "I did not intend to."

Blakeney asks him something about the wind or was it the rain? Tomorrow? Yes, oh yes, he is quite certain it will come, the change for the better. His hat forgotten, holding a canon shot in his hands with some difficulty, he utters, softly, his final words.

"You have always been… very kind… to me." The boy smiles. "Goodbye Blakeney."

Feeling strangely calm, canon ball in a deathly grip, he jumps overboard, all of the world suspended in his flight between the wooden world, the air and the water, Blakeney's cry of help, his face and Lucky Jack Aubrey's looking at him from above as he sinks into the deep, his eyes open.

_Forgive me, my friend. Forgive me, my God. Will you forgive me?_

His descent, curious thing, into the ocean, seems never-ending, and surely he must have passed the veil, all the worries and anguish gone. A warm kind light surrounds him, a haunting song with no words comforts him, and then oblivion.

"No!", screams Will, his tears blinding him. "Bradley!"

"It's done, lad. He's gone, I can't see him anymore." the boy sniffs in my hands for a bit, and then we hear _it._

"What is THAT?"

I'm an experienced seaman, and the dark plays many tricks on many a sailor's mind, especially if most, if not all, suspect or believe there is a Jonah aboard. But never have I heard a voice like that, in the middle of nothing. A woman's voice that sings no words, and with such enchanting beauty. She or it, whatever it may be, continues to sing for a few minutes more, and it seems as if all the souls in this vessel have come to see what is going on.

"Sir?", asks Peter Calamy. "What is this?"

It appears to come from the water, all around us. Then, an unearthly glow briefly surrounds the ship and after that, the voice quiets and the blessed, boring darkness returns.

Suddenly, it begins to rain.

Ok, this is, for now, a one-shot. If you'd care for it, I could make some more, just PM me or review. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione Granger slowly walked along the deserted beach of the island with her faithful Crookshanks. It had been a cold cloudy day, threatening rain even since after lunch. Bending here and there, casting heating charms once in a while, collecting shells, a gust of wind blew her hat away, farther and farther. Sighing, annoyed, she ran for it; she would have to hurry back anyway, the sun would set in an hour. She sprinted towards it, or after the hat, which seemed to have acquired life of its own. A wandless summoning spell didn't work either. And as soon as she got closer, it would lift off again and again and again.

"Finally!", she cried, her hand at last grasping the possessed hat, which she slapped twice for good measure, the sand falling off it, and placed it upon her brown hair, discreetly applying a mild sticking charm. Looking ahead, it appeared as if something had come up to the shore; she started walking towards it, then as quick as she could move, reaching it, at last, breathless. It was a man!

Never minding the strange way of dress, early eighteen-hundreds? A jacket with coat tails? Really? (_Then again, you've seen stranger things in the wizarding world…)_, she turned him into his back and noted he was breathing, his heart beating. She sighed in relief and gently shook him.

"Wake up." His face contorted gently with a frown, but to no avail. "Wake up." His eyes slowly opened, like beacons lit in a wild green forest, as if seeing all of her. He whispered something about angels that she couldn't understand and then passed out, clearly exhausted.

"Well, that's it for you, young man. I'll take you to a hospital, hmm?" Crookshanks purred beside the fallen man and meowed loudly, clearly unhappy. "Crookshanks!", her familiar settled on top of him, and "are you glaring at me, Crooks?"

Hermione Granger frowned at the man and at a black spot partially hidden in the sand, reaching for it.

"Heavy…", gently scooping it up in her hands she frowned harder. "A canon ball?!" looking around, she wandlessly cast a notice-me-not charm on all three of them and apparated home.

I'm not called the brightest witch of my age for nothing. Mr. Handsome had quite the intriguing set of clothes on. _I couldn't let him catch a cold, now could I?_ Nobody dresses like that nowadays unless you go to a costume party or reenactment, or makes that sort of clothing the way it's made on those materials. Too realistic; I know I'd hate _that _underwear, who would, in his right mind, go to such lengths? Internet and books, hehe. And the watch, the inscription on it, the coin in his pocket, looking at its date and the look of it, brand new… made me nervous, my hands trembling. Let's not even talk about the heavy canon ball.

The wards alert me; my guest has awakened. I look at the kitchen and enter the living room; all looks quite normal. For a Muggle, at least, all the protective and disguising spells in place. I caress my wand on its invisible holster and quickly go upstairs, into the guest room which is right beside mine. His cheeks are wet, his eyes anguished, and I feel… strange, my heart going out to him.

"Why are you crying?" he turns his light brown haired head to gape at me, like he had seen some otherworldly apparition and I look behind me to see nothing. "Is something the matter?" he keeps on gaping. Okay… I smile at him… "Humm… tea?"

What manner of place was this?

He remembered glimpsing all around him before he spoke his last words to kind Will, his only friend in the HMS Surprise. He took his own life then. Oh, the shame he felt, what must Will think of him... he couldn't bear the thought. And now, like the weakling he was, he cried.

What was this place? Why was he naked under the sheets? Soft sheets, and a real comfortable bed, with several colorful… books?... on the bedside table, his clothes and the canon shot nowhere in sight. He wasn't dead, but mustn't be a prisoner and this couldn't be Hell, but…

Then, there she was. The first and strangest looking Angel I ever saw in my whole life. Long soft looking brown hair in waves, and hazel eyes. Wearing, Dear Lord, trousers.

"Tea, yes, please." I croak, my throat dry as paper. I had been gaping the entire time, enough that she had begun to stare at me, sizing me up. Stupid Hollom. "Might I have my clothes back?" she raises an eyebrow at me and takes a strangely colorful set of tea from behind the door into the room, removes some books and sets it on the table beside the bed.

"No.", she smirks at me. "Until you explain to me who you are and what happened to you, you're not getting any clothes… sorry." She doesn't seem to be the least sorry, though. She must have seen something in my face, then. "I really am sorry, but you shouldn't get up anyway. You must be exhausted. You slept an entire day. I won't feed you just anything you want, so you won't get an upset stomach, but would you like some broth for starters? Then some toast with homemade jam perhaps, if you're craving for something sweet?" she smiles at me, almost tenderly, only to smirk again. "Besides, you're the first handsome man to visit this house. I think I'd like to keep you for a while." She winks at me and leaves me drinking the tea.

_Now THAT was not ladylike!,_ snickers an amused inner voice. So? It does not mean she is not a lady. _Well, lady or not, she appears to at least have a sense of humor._ And she is beautiful, I muse, sipping some more tea. Once finished with it, I set the flower decorated ceramic mug on top of the books and I push the blankets and sheets off me to rise, naked. I approach the window and sight a cloudy sky, threatening rain any minute now. An enchanting little beach… it reminds me of home. Where am I? Where is the Surprise, the boat commanded by Captain Jack Aubrey?

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud.

"My home." I gasp and turn. The woman was already sitting in a chair, sipping tea and reading a book, and if she hadn't spoken one would think, the way she held herself and focused on her book, there was no one else in the room, yet I couldn't help but cover myself with my hands and quickly go into the bed and settle under its coverings. She then closes her book and serves me the broth, which I consume with gusto. "I inherited it from my parents. They died in an accident years ago." I paused, spoon hovering.

"You inherited it?" I had never heard such a thing. A woman?

"Yes. I was an only child." Ah. Still. No cousins, then? "Like it?" she nods at the bowl.

"It's delicious, thank the cook for me." She laughs and notes she cooked it herself. "Well, but don't you have servants?"

"No, it's only us here for miles and miles around. Wonderful isn't it, the peace and quiet? Sometimes, it's as if that alone heals you." She smiles to herself and looks at the ceiling. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger…" "Don't call me Miss." "Mrs…" "I'm not married. For now, just Granger will suffice."

"I am Bradley Hollom, Midshipman at the HMS Surprise." I am feeling odd, like I haven't a care in the world and I feel myself smile like an idiot. "At your service."

"Well… care to tell me how you ended up on my beach?"

Little did I know then she had laced the broth with something.

-..-..-..-..-

I know I shouldn't have, but I had to know. The war against Voldemort still goes on. Who would have thought Lucius Malfoy would end up possessed by a Horcrux? Poor Draco… some father!

The Veritaserum worked quite nicely on Hollom. Poor man. I go into the kitchen, feeling a twinge of guilt for having interrogated him and hearing all the dirty details.

Well, well. A time traveler. How on earth am I supposed to break the news to him? To send him back? Does he even want to be sent back? I shudder, I know I wouldn't, Gryffindor courage be damned. Especially considering the man is clearly depressed. How could he have become better if the crew and that stupid Joe Placey kept whispering rather clearly behind his back. And why didn't Lucky Jack Aubrey do something? Stupid superstitions. I sigh, aggravated.

Curious thing then, most sailors didn't know how to swim. Well, understandable. Without the technology what were the survival odds of swimming in the middle of the sea if you fell into it, especially on the middle of a storm? And being considered a Jonah, well... No rain and no wind for weeks. _I chose the lesser of two weevils_, he said. And he believed it! I checked him too, he didn't and doesn't have any curse on him.

Should I tell him who I am? How can I help him heal? If he is to return, how am I to help him harden himself? More than harden, he needs to heal himself, to see himself, once again, as someone with value. He felt intimidated, quite often, not only for being too old a middie, but also for not being able to make up his mind for fear of screwing up, and being such a klutz.

I pause and blink. He strongly reminds me of a formerly clumsy Gryffindor friend of mine. Oh yes. I smile and head into the living room, throwing some powder intothe fireplace.

"Sensei!" I wait. "Sensei!"

An old man's face slowly forms in the fire and smiles at me; the half-blood wizard who taught me martial arts and often outdid me in duel, though not lately. I often wondered if he wasn't more powerful than Dumbledore.

"Hermione." We talk for a bit yet and then I ask him,

"Sensei, I know we haven't spoken lately, but I was wondering if you could accept another Neville Longbottom?"

-…-…-…-

Cliffie!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Morning had once again come. Bradley Hollom woke to another cloudy day, his body rested, his heart constricting in his chest. _Why did you tell her everything, you blithering useless idiot? What must she think of you? You! You good for nothing-_

"Good morning, Mr. Hollom. Did you sleep well?"

"Aye.", the angel gives me a mysterious smile, like she knows something I don't. "I would like to get out of this bed."

"Yes.", she hands me a fluffy long jacket, without buttons, in pale pink, a long strap of the same material around the waist, and turns her back on me. "Get out of bed, and put that bathrobe on, please." I swallow hard and do that. "I rather think you need a shower… ah, a bath. Are you decent?"

"Aye.", I follow her, as she tells me to and we enter a small room, fashioned with dark marble and things I have never seen before. She faces me and starts pointing at things, explaining me how it all works. Now alone, I drop the jacket, no, bathrobe, and sink into the already full bathtub and let the warm water, full of a strange lavender scented foam, comfort me. I must have dozed off, though, she has entered and is staring down at me intensely. I reach my manhood to needlessly cover it, for the foam already does that and she suddenly smiles.

"Well, enjoying your bubble bath a bit too much, aren't you?" this is awkward, I think. "I love doing that from time to time, it really helps you relax, and it's easy to fall asleep. I brought you some clothes, they're a bit different from what you were wearing, but I hope you'll like them. Breakfast is almost ready though, so come downstairs to the kitchen when you're finished."

I blink a couple of times and she is gone. I look at a chair and, seeing some clothing on it, I rise and wrap myself in a fluffy dark red towel, sighing. My feet step on a big square carpet, in the same color, covering most of the bathroom floor. I wiggle my toes, now comfortably trapped in the carpet's fibers, and wonder when this dream will end, dressing myself in the clothes the strange angel left me.

Having no idea how to clean the bathroom, I leave it as is and go to the kitchen, questions pilling over themselves in my head. As I close the door behind me, a mouthwatering smell hits my nostrils, some kind of pastry or cake? I follow it, sniffing all along the way and stop to gape at it. There are little and big metal shining things, others rather colorful in the kitchen counter. I barely notice her entering the kitchen through another door, while I wonder, aloud, what sort of witchery is this.

"It's not. They're just kitchen appliances. Come on, breakfast is on the table. Let's eat first and I'll answer your questions later. I don't think your stomach is as upset as yesterday, so I think you can manage eating more today." I pause and look at a beautifully laid table, with rectangles of navy cloth under round plates with a teacup on it and dull golden colored table cutlery, accompanied by a tall glass of some yellow liquid. "Close your mouth, will you?" I snap my mouth shut and blush under her scrutiny, joining her at the table.

"Bradley is a nice name. You've come a long way." She takes a sip of the yellow liquid and reaches for a sort of cake, drops it on her empty plate and dabs it liberally with liquid honey.

"I… what is this?" I look at the items on the table, and swallow hard, feeling like a foolish child. "Where are we?"

"The question isn't where but when. Eat first. This is mango lassi, it's a beverage of yogurt,… crushed ice, sugar and mango, like this one." She lightly touches a green and reddish oval fruit. "This is a waffle, a sort of cake cooked in a special shaped kitchen iron that gives it this shape. It's made with flour, sugar, eggs and milk. I thought you might like a different sort of breakfast." She starts eating and I mimic her. Before I know it, I've already started drinking some tea and eating a cheese and marmalade sandwich, finishing with an apple. I wipe my hands in a cream colored napkin and sigh, content. I cannot recall a better breakfast. Then I look at the woman's newspaper. There are colors in it! I approach, my nose is now only inches away, and gape at the date. I blink twice and rub my eyes for good measure. The Granger woman closes it and looks at me, then smiles softly. She opens her mouth and starts talking about my arrival, what she saw, and where we are, and when… the room starts going around and around. The future? How can this be? It's not possible, never have I heard such a thing. She demonstrates, turning on some box she calls TV, putting a thing called DVD and we see a bit of a movie, is it? Sitting, I stare in horrified fascination and realize nothing will ever be the same. Who am I now, what is my place?

"Miss Granger… I…", panic slowly grips me, black spots appear in my vision, my heart beats like a drum, like beating to quarters.

"We'll get you through this. Don't lose hope yet, Mr. Hollom." Her hands rest for long moments on my shoulders, gently massaging them, and suddenly sleep takes me.

-…-…-…-


End file.
